


When I Breathe

by Vanyel



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AND A FUTURE, Also unbetad, Angst, But to be fair it's been a while, Cuz eff it who cares about betaing, Genyatta - Freeform, Kinda, M/M, NaNoWriMo, Oh wow, Other, Someone requested the ship then but i didn't get the idea til now, Song Inspired, Van writes another fic based on a song, it's not "no archive warnings apply" for a reason, just a vague warning here, now with MORE CHAPTERS, vaguely shippy, wrote this on the flight to and from con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 09:21:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9228623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanyel/pseuds/Vanyel
Summary: Genji goes home.





	1. Chapter 1

The streets were just as bright and colorful as he remembered. Lights flashed, children played, and people crowded the sidewalk in the constant ebb and flow around the stores. It all held a certain feeling of purpose, as if all their paths were by design rather than whim, walking only where fate had decided where they would go.

Genji remembered that feeling. He remembered hating it, back then - Hanamura had been a stifling weight of expectations on the young heir. He’d rebelled against that feeling with all his might, tried to break tradition in every way he could think of just to escape, to find agency in his own life. To feel like he was something more than a puppet in someone - or something - else’s hands. Each struggle made it close tighter and tighter around him, and so he struggled harder, until-

Another teenager stepped out of the parting crowd, breaking Genji from his reverie. His lights twinkled in faint amusement as the girl placed two quarters on the console next to him, defiant and challenging as she eyes him. 

“So,” he said, bowing once and slipping one quarter into his side of the machine, “you are to be next, are you?”

She mirrored him, reaching up to flick hair out of her face. “I’ve been watching you all day. You’re good. Two dozen challengers in a row.” A soft snort. “But  _ no one _ beats  _ me. _ ”

Behind the mask, Genji’s mouth twitched. “Such bold words. Well then, why don’t we find out if I am no one after all?”

Two pairs of hands settled on the controls - one large and soft, one small and metal. The crowd tightened around them, holding their breath as the game booted up.

Now, Genji appreciated that sense of purpose Hanamura had about it. It gave him the sense of a greater plan out there, the Will of the Iris, and everyone had their roles to fulfill. To Genji, that was an extremely comforting thought. There was purpose to his continued life. He still had a part to play. He played the fool today; the jester, a source of novel entertainment in this town. A fitting role, and one Genji could play with zeal.

One hand slipped down, giving a quick touch to the pouch at his side and feeling the solid weight of the orb within. The same weight that had begun to settle in his heart.

Zenyatta would have been proud of him.

 

\---------------

 

_ They were meditating in the small garden behind the mess hall for about an hour when it happened. Genji felt  _ **_something_ ** _ shift in the air around him like a ripple in a pond passing through him. He felt the answering flicker in Zenyatta’s aura even before the birds scattered. _

_ “You felt it too.” Zenyatta’s voice was smooth as ever, a hint of a smile at the edges. “You have grown much in yourself, my student, to perceive that. Well done.” _

_ Genji turned his face up towards him, watching the circling orbs rise and tighten to their proper orbit. “...I certainly felt  _ **_something_ ** _ , Master, but...what was it that I felt?” _

_ Rising from the ground, Zenyatta gracefully unfolded his legs, letting them rest as they dangled in the air. “A call for aid from home. One of my brothers has sent out to me in need, and so I must go.” One hand rose, stilling Genji’s tongue before it moved. “Alone, Genji. You are still needed here in Overwatch, and it is not urgent enough to require your assistance.” _

_ Chastened, Genji stood and bowed his head. It took a moment to process. “Will it be a long journey, Master? I would hate to see the wonderful work you have done here fade in your absence, and I am not so arrogant to believe myself capable of taking your place as guidance.” _

_ Zenyatta chuckled softly at Genji’s tone, aura warm with amusement and affection for his student. He cupped his hand in front of his face, letting one of his orbs gently drift out and settle in the middle of it. “If you must have a centered reminder that I am always with you, my student, then take this.” The light pulsed, the orb’s symbol shifting to a smile for a brief moment before returning to normal. “The Iris flows through all things, but it flows a little stronger through these.” _

_ After a short pause, Genji took the orb. The cyborg held it carefully in his hands, feeling its warmth and hearing its soft music in his head. He bowed again, straightening his back this time, and when he spoke it was with a solemnity he could not explain. “May the Iris go with you, Master.” _

_ An incline of his head in turn, and Zenyatta flashed a peace sign. “And with you, Genji. Don’t do anything rash without me.” A soft metallic chuckle followed. _

 

\----------------------

 

GAME OVER - PLAYER 1 IS THE WINNER!

The cyborg let go of the controls, stepping back and bowing to his opponent. A faint flicker of amusement touched the visor at her shocked expression. She turned to face him, raising a single eyebrow in an attempt to cover herself. “I have...never seen anyone play like that. It doesn’t look that strong from the crowd, but actually playing against it was...” A short cough. “No one can beat me. Not even gamebots after you override the difficulty cap. Who ARE you?”

Genji felt a stab of nostalgia and of pain, covering it with a bow and an exaggerated flourish. “As you have said before. I am No One.” He turned to the crowd, visor winking at a young boy in front. “Also a cyborg ninja.” The crowd applauded, the girl herself conceding a smile as she faded back into them. Some of the older ones surged forwards with quarters in hand, wanting to be the next one to test their skill against him, but the arcade owner stepped between Genji and the crowd.

“Alright, everyone,” he said over the noises of dismay, “we’re closed for the evening. Been closed for ten minutes. Go home, go home, you can come back tomorrow! I’m sure.....” A glance at the cyborg. “I’m sure Mr. No One will be here then. Go!” After a few minutes of coaxing, and Genji promising future matches to almost half of the kids, the crowd finally dispersed out into the streets. Only Genji and the owner remained.

A soft huff as the machines powered down. “Well now,” the owner said, chuckling as he walked Genji out and began locking the front doors, “I haven’t seen a crowd around a single machine like that in many years. I’d be happy to have you back again, Mr. No One - you’re good for business. I assume you can find a place to stay for the evening? Hanamura can be quite confusing.”

Genji thought a moment, tilting his head to the side. “I think I can find my way around, thank you.” He gave a short bow and dashed off in a flash of green light, leaving the bewildered owner behind as he vanished into the crowd.

\------

Perched on the edge of the tiled roof, Genji looked down over the courtyard. Even when one of the perpetually cycling guards bothered to look up, he was perfectly hidden in the shadow of the tower. The Shimada household seemed...calmer than he remembered. Fewer couriers with incredibly urgent messages scurried to and fro than on any night he’d been there before. It seemed like the search for the clan’s heir had finally begun to fade.

_ Good _ , Genji thought to himself with a nod.  _ My brother has been through too much. Perhaps Hanzo can find the path to forgiving himself once his journey is no longer hounded by reminders of the past. _

He watched them a few minutes more. The orchestration of movement in the household was so perfect. Everything was done with exacting expectations, under fear of retribution for the slightest deviation. It was so foreign to Genji, as if it somehow wasn’t the place he’d spent the first two decades of his life. He’d grown up here, but so much more of his actual living and growth had happened since he’d left. 

Genji sat behind the tower, leaning against it and venting softly as he detached the faceplate. He placed it in the bag perched next to him, pulling out Zenyatta’s orb in its place and settling it in his hands.

“Master,” he began quietly, “it seems I have not held your teachings in me the way I thought. When I first met you, lost and broken, you told me that the pull inside me to run was my soul longing for home again. You said that when the time came that I needed strength or guidance without you, I could follow it back to this place and find peace and center myself. And I need strength right now. This journey is long, and I have lost the way. So I tried. I thought I could go home again. But this place...this place may once have been my home, but it is no longer. The Shimada clan has not been my home for what feels like a lifetime.”

He brought the orb up to his forehead, closing his eyes as the metal touched his skin. “Home is a feeling I buried in you,” he whispered, breathing shakily.

The orb gave no answer, still and quiet, the metal cold against his skin. Genji set the orb down, sighing and replacing his visor. It had been foolish to hope it would reawaken from mere words. It was connected to his Master, not himself. Settling into low power mode, Genji gave the dormant orb one last look.

“Wherever you are, I will find you, Zenyatta,” he vowed softly as his external lights shut off and he fell into a dreamless sleep.

 

\----------------------

 

_ “Genji!” The sound of his name made Genji turn, and he smiled softly as Mercy approached him just past the medbay. “It has been a while since we have spoken out of battle. How are you feeling?” _

_ He shrugged casually. “I’m all right,” he replied. “It only hurts when I breathe.” The visor twinkled merrily, and Mercy laughed at the old joke between them. _

_ She nodded gently. “I’m happy to hear that. I just wanted to make sure you were doing well. I know Zenyatta’s departure was so abrupt, and it must have been hard on you.” _

_ Genji shrugged again, one hand dipping into his pouch. “Master was impressed I heard the call for aid as well. And as long as I have this, I know he hasn’t really left at all.” He pulled out the warm orb, cupping it gently in his hands. The light in the spinning center danced across the walls and their faces, dimming and brightening like calm breathing, and he smiled softly. _

_ The medic held a hand over it, curious, and traced the smooth metal with one finger. “How interesting,” Mercy mused quietly as the faint music flowed around them, “that this is still active even when this far away from Zenyatta. I wonder how it works.” _

_ “The power of the Iris.” Genji lifted it a little higher, looking deep into the orb. He swore he could see an image of Zenyatta in the center, flashing a peace sign, and the winking lights reminded him of Zenyatta’s gentle aura when he smiled. “Master once told me that these were connected to his soul. No matter the miles in between, it is a part of him, and-” _

_ The orb went dark and silent in his hands. _

_ Mercy pulled her hand back in surprise. Her eyes widened. “Did...did I do something? I hardly touched it...” _

_ Genji nearly dropped the orb from the sudden dead weight. He shook his head, turning it over and over frantically as the music faded. He felt only the cold metal struck by the absence of the warmth that had been there mere moments before. A feeling of dread swept over him, as strong as the call for aid had been. “Something is wrong.” Genji’s voice was tight and fearful. “Something has happened. I have to go after him.” _

_ He turned to leave, but Mercy’s hand on his shoulder stopped him as she looked up with gentle worry. “Wait, Genji. You said the orb connected to his soul, and Zenyatta is not easily fazed. Wherever he is could be incredibly dangerous to go.” Her voice dropped low. “If it was too much for him to handle alone, following him in might get you....killed as well.” _

_ “Zenyatta is not dead,” Genji returned, a dark force in his statement as his visor flickered. “I do not know what has made his orb go dark, but he has not left this world yet.” He cupped the orb gingerly, holding it against his chest plate. “I have walked through the world in his eyes. If he was with the Iris...” Genji’s voicebox clicked a few times as he steadied himself. “If he was dead, I would know it. Master is still out there, somewhere, and I must go to him.” _

_ They locked eyes for a moment, Mercy finally squeezing his shoulder gently before releasing it. “If you know he is out there, Genji, then go. I will tell the others.” _

_ He placed his hand on hers, bowing and whispering a faint farewell before dashing off with the orb cradled against his chest. Somewhere deep inside, Genji still felt soft, faint warmth coming from it. A small ember of hope. _

_ “I’m coming, Master. Hold on.” _

 

\-----------------------

 

A sparrow landed on the roof in the early light of dawn. It hopped across the tiles and onto the strange metal figure, looking curiously at its reflection in the dark visor. This wasn’t part of its normal roost. A statue? The humans liked statues.

Out of the corner of its eye, the bird noticed a cloth bag nearby. Fluttering down, it poked softly at the round bulge just inside. Maybe there was something tasty to eat?

From inside the bag, a blinding flash of light sent the sparrow scurrying off into the sky. The orb glowed frantically, undimmed by the bag. The pulses quickened, faster, faster, breathlessly fast, and a single desperate note rang out, hanging in the still air.

 

And then the orb fell dark, silent, and utterly cold

Genji work with a start of pain, and a sense of wrong. He felt a deep, agonizing pit open in his chest and scrambled to the bag.

The orb was like ice to his touch and to his soul. Not even the faintest bit of warmth.

His heart fell into the pit. He couldn’t breathe. It hurt.

“No...”


	2. Chapter 2

The mountains of Nepal had never seemed this cold - foreboding and aloof, yes, but in the same way that the Shambali were aloof until you felt the joy that wove them together, and the hope that kept them strong in the face of so much resistance. There had always been an aura of quiet, lasting patience over the range.

Genji remembered walking with his master up the mountain when they came to pay Mondatta’s respects, many years ago. The monk could have simply floated alongside his student, but he took every one of the ten thousand steps as a spiritual reminder of life’s ongoing journey. Zenyatta had pointed out the rocks peeking through the snow on a nearby mountain. He said that they always seemed to be smiling, if one knew where to look.

No matter how hard he looked this time, Genji could see no smile. Only rocks. Snow. Cold. He felt the weight of the metal orb in his bag with every step. It jangled against his shuriken, in a mockery of its old music.

In the cold air, Genji paused, taking a deep breath. The sound was too painful, here, in this place of memories. As he shifted the shuriken to a different pocket of the bag, he felt his mind drifting to the last time he’d journeyed up this mountain. Only a few months ago, yet it felt like a lifetime ago.

 

\---------------

 

_His steps had been lighter, then. Faster. Driven by worry instead of despair. Genji followed the faint pull of warmth pulsing from the orb he cradled in his hands. It had led him from one Shambali outreach to the next, like a trail of breadcrumbs. The answer was always the same._

_Yes, Zenyatta had been seen there, perhaps a month or so before. No, he was not there now. They did not know where the Tekharta was now. He hadn’t stayed long or talked to anyone, simply spending a few hours in the central altar room before leaving without another word. Perhaps the monastery to the east would know._

_Almost a score of these monasteries. Almost a score of these discussion. Genji felt himself tracing Zenyatta’s footsteps, just a few behind, like a dog chasing its master. Always heading east, circling the globe, until there was one place left to go. The head monastery. Nepal._

_In no time at all, he was standing in front of the great wooden doors, panting. Genji knocked hard and listened to the sound echo into the halls behind. His feet shifted restlessly on the worn stone._

_The door shifted slightly. Instantly, Genji jumped to the opening, mouth already moving before the figure behind it was even in sight._

_“Please, I’m looking for-”_

_“The Honored Tekharta Zenyatta will not be seem here, or now, or anywhere, or anytime.” The thin electronic voice stopped him in his tracks. “He knows you are looking for him, Shimada Genji. But he will not be found to you now. This is not the time. Leave this place, and do not return in search of him again.”_

_Before Genji could do anything, the door shut in front of him. The finality of the statements left him stunned for a few moments, staring up at the creaking wood._

_Slowly, he turned, dazed. The first few steps made him stumble, catching on the worn stone. He’d be halfway down the mountain, steadily ignoring the tears burning at his sensors, before he had a place to go in mind. The only place left to him now without Zenyatta._

_Hanamura._

 

\---------------

 

The thought of Hanamura snapped Genji back to the present; back to the cold seeping into his joints. To the sound of the wind moving over the rocks. To the wooden doors rising over him, casting long shadows in the dying light. His feet had finished the climb on their own. Taking a deep breath, Genji raised his hand, knocking slowly once.

The door opened before his fist could come down again. He was greeted by a smooth face - clearly that of a younger monk, not yet nicked and worn by time - reflecting the green glow of his visor. “Yes?”

Genji gave a startled bow, dimming his lights. “Greetings.” His own voice sounded hollow to him. “My name is Shimada Genji. I am here-”

“Genji?” The monk’s lights flared for a moment. “The Tekharta’s pupil, to whom he trusted his orb?”

A small sigh, not allowing the words to sink in as deeply as they wanted to. “Yes, I-”

Metal fingers closed around his wrist, the door pulled just wide enough for him to be yanked through in his surprise. They were moving down the halls before Genji registered that the monk was speaking.

“...got here sooner than we thoughts, but of course that’s - I mean, that is a good thing! I know you came to see the honored Tekharta, your master Zenyatta, but he’s - I mean, he is-”

“I know.” Sharper than he’d meant it, echoing in the vaulted space. Genji saw the monk flinch back, and gentled his voice. “I...I know what has happened to master Zenyatta, my friend. That...is why I have come here.”

The monk gave a small nod and released his wrist. They moved with the speed of one who knows all things will come in their proper time, and yet would like to hurry them anyways. Other than the two of them, the hall was empty, silent but the echo of their feet on the stone floor.

That in and of itself stabbed at Genji’s heart. He remembered Zenyatta’s stories of the monastery in his youth, always humming with activity and good-natured mischief. And even in the wake of Mondatta’s passing, there had been life running through the mountain. Nothing could stop the spirit of hope that pervaded the halls, the hope for peace and understanding despite everything that had happened. The spirit was palpable, filling the air.

That spirit was gone.The hall felt still and empty, and as they moved, Genji wondered how much deeper the loss of the young Tekharta must have cut to stifle everything like this. To make this house of life as still as a grave. What could have happened?

For the infinitieth time, he was wracked with guilt. He should have been there. He should have been faster, forced his way through the doors the last time he came here, demanded to see Zenyatta back when he was still ali-

Genji stopped right before stumbling into the monk, blinking and realizing they’d made better time than expected. They were stopped in front of a set of grand doors. A carved Omnic, traced in a dim colorless light shining from within, rose over them.

“He’s - he is in here,” the monk said softly, hands folding in front. “I may not enter, but you must. Please.” He bowed low.

With a deep breath, Genji placed one hand on the door. It creaked, but moved easily, just enough for him to slip through.

\---------------

With nothing other than the empty feeling inside him as evidence, Genji knew Zenyatta was the form lying alone, settled on a raised stone platform in the center of the packed meditation chamber. The crowd of seated monks had left just enough of a path between them from the door to the dais, the only light streaming in dim rays from overhead windows. They were all silent, lights powered down, deep in meditation. In mourning.

He lost himself somewhere on the walk up to see him, coming back at the final stair. Genji stood, and looked down, and felt time freeze.

There was not a mark on the faceplate that he didn’t know by heart. The dark cables twining elegantly down his waist were not twisted or bent. Simple cloth pants lay over thin legs, hardly even dirty. The monks had folded his hands on his lap, fingers curled in familiar patterns. To someone who didn’t know, the Omnic laying on that platform looked merely asleep, at rest. Peaceful.

Genji raised one hand, and saw it shaking. He reached down to Zenyatta’s body, palm pressing against the metal plates that made up his chest. His hand moved slowly, tracing the edges.

Feeling a nick that he knew far too well, etched in the cold metal.

 

\---------------

 

_It had been in a forest, somewhere in Europe. Genji had traveled too far and too long to care exactly where he was at the time. All the better; it was hard to track a man who didn’t know where he was - and if Genji, a ninja groomed for this his whole life, couldn’t figure out where he was, then certainly neither could anyone trying to follow him._

_He was perched in a tree, scanning the area. With so little electricity in this particular stretch of his journey, the cyborg found himself relying on human fuel once again. Food. A mocking reminder of what he had once been. What he no longer was. Even the thought made Genji’s anger boil to the surface._

_And then, a sound. It floated through the air, softly, and Genji thought of the chime of distant church bells._

_Too distant. The last human settlement had been more than two days’ journey, and with the ambient noises of the forest, it was not quiet enough for bells to carry that far. He separated his sword from his sheath and tightened his grip on the trunk of the tree, readying himself. Something must be carrying that sound into the forest. Something...or someone._

_The sound came closer, but there were no footsteps._

_An Omnic monk floated into view, hovering several feet above the ground. He was clearly of some status, indicated by the nine steady blue lights upon his faceplate. Yet his garb was not ostentatious - merely a pair of tan cloth pants, covering thin legs folded into a simple lotus. The bell-like sound came from the nine metal orbs floating in a circle around the monk’s shoulders, sounding far-away even so close._

_The monk passed under the tree when Genji crouched. And kept going on, floating through the trees into the distance. Breathing out, the ninja dropped his guard, standing on the branch and pulling his hand off the trunk. He sniffed at the scratches on his palm - the tree’s bark had been sharper than he’d thought._

_A hum in his ears, and the sound of bells. Something flew near his head. Instantly, Genji turned, shuriken flicking out of his wrist and flying before he was even facing the direction. A solid hit, metal thunking into metal. He jumped out of the tree, rolling up to a fighting stance with a second set of shuriken in his hand. Something still hovered at the edge of his vision, and he turned his head enough to see-_

_One metal orb, floating and spinning by his shoulder, emanating a soft light that washed over him. The light was warm, and heavy in the air around him, spiraling down Genji’s arm to his hand. As he watched, the light flowed over his palm, soothing the pain and sealing the small scratches until his skin was as smooth and unbroken as it could be._

_“You have an interesting manner of greeting.”_

_Genji started, looking up again as the monk reappeared in his view. He floated closer, seemingly unmindful of the shuriken stuck firmly in the center of his chestplate._

_“Though I suppose I should have considered that an Orb of Harmony should not be attached without a warning. I apologize, my friend.” The monk’s voice was smooth, just a hint of the electric overlay characteristic of the Omnics. A slight crackle at the edge of a grunt as one hand gently pulled the weapon out of his chest. “And I believe this belongs to you.”_

_Warily, Genji snatched it back, eyeing the nick in in the metal. It had struck true, a disabling shot - yet the monk seemed unaffected. “Who are you, monk.” Less a question, more a demand._

_And the monk laughed softly, a sound as bell-like as the chime of the orbs still circling him. His array glowed brighter and seemed to twinkle, like eyes when a man smiled._

_“I am Zenyatta. And you are Genji Shimada, wanderer and cyborg. A pleasure to meet you.”_

 

\---------------

 

The sob tore through the still chamber, followed by a harsh clattering as his visor hit the floor. Genji fell to his knees at his master’s side.

Until now, he had been able to disconnect himself from the full reality of the situation. His journey had felt far away, like a dream, like someone else’s life that he was watching. He’d carried the vague and unsettling ache within him since the orb had gone dark, and the deeper, gnawing pain of loss ever since Hanamura. But it had never fully touched him.

Seeing Zenyatta’s light gone cold in person without even a scar to mark what had snuffed it sent Genji spiraling into true and unending despair.

 

 

 

 

 

 

\---------------

 

Nothing had moved in the time Genji cried himself out. No one had spoken as he railed, cursed, tore himself and the world to pieces for what had happened. Begged for at least a sign, at least the truth of what had done this. When he finally pulled himself back to his feet, it was impossible to tell how much, if any, time had even passed. Hours. Weeks. Seconds.

Genji sniffled softly, trying to breath deeply. He knew Zenyatta would not have shamed him for such a display of emotion - at most, a little teasing for not remembering him in his normal state of quiet joy. The monk would wish his life celebrated even as his death was mourned. He wiped the tears from his eyes, one hand hovering above Zenyatta’s faceplate.

“At least it seems you passed in quiet, Master,” Genji said softly. “It is not enough, but it is what the world has given.”

He finally noticed the arrangement of the orbs around Zenyatta’s altar, the spheres lying still and quiet around their master in a gentle pattern. One spot, by his right hand, was left empty. Genji reached into his pack and silently pulled out the gift he had been given long ago. A promise. He knelt, rolling the orb silently into place, completing the circle.

\---------------

A blinding golden light knocked Genji backwards, as if trying to fling him into the wall. He certainly cleared the stone platform, instinct kicking in and keeping him on his feet. Before he could process what had happened, the sound of a set of optics onlining echoed through the room. A thousand sets, all at once, in the same heartbeat. Genji whirled, looking around the chamber as it came alive with light.

**C A L L  T O  H I M**

It was less a voice, and more a multitude, coming from nowhere and everywhere. Stunned, Genji scanned the room, looking for the speaker.

**C  A L L  T O  H I M**

The speaker was the monastery - the entire monastery, every monk looking at the stone platform, speaking at the exact same time in perfect synchronicity. Their lights, Genji finally noticed, were not the normal shade of cheerful blue, nor the piercing red of one taken by the spirit of war. Thousands of eyes stared up at Genji, glowing brilliant gold.

**H E  W I L L  H E A R  Y O U**

And a gentle sound drifted through the air, soft, and yet ever-present, like it was inside his mind. It was not quite a tinkling sound, and not quite a chime. To the ear that did not know exactly what it was, it would bring to mind the sound of far-away bells.

Genji knew exactly what it was, and turned back to the raised altar, heart in his throat.

Zenyatta’s prone form was bathed in a golden light. He floated a foot off the stone tablet, arms drifting down to the side, as if he was carried by something unseen. Around him circled the orbs, glowing gold, spinning and giving off their ethereal sound.

Something in him moved with a surety that Genji could not explain. Gently, he made his way back up the stone steps. He stopped in front of the hovering form, one hand reaching out.

**Y** **O** **U  **  **C** ** A** **N** **L** ** E A D  H I M  H O M E**

Genji laid his hand delicately on Zenyatta’s cheek, feeling the metal against his fingers. It was cool, but not cold as before.

“Master.” His voice was as steady as he could make it. Somehow he felt - no, KNEW - what he had to say.

“I am here, Master. Genji is here. Please come home.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess this isn't a one-shot anymore!  
> But in all seriousness, I had this planned since I first posted the first "chapter" way back when. I couldn't leave the ending where it was, and re-listening to the song got me far more inspired to write more. Sorry this has taken so long - promise the next chapter won't. It's at least started already!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> NO I'M NOT.  
> Well, I am about this taking so long. So sorry on that.  
> And I'm sorry for anyone hurt for the untagged death. It's...I took a long time thinking about it, whether I should tag it or not. I understand it can hurt if it's unexpected, but if it's expected, doesn't that defeat the entire point in a short one-shot like this?
> 
> If I get a lot of calls to tag it, I will. I'm just...conflicted.
> 
> Edit: NOT A ONESHOT ANYMORE EYYYY


End file.
